


Trouble

by Romiress



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: An attempt at being canon compliant was made, Deviates From Canon, Hurt feelings, M/M, and then discarded, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8036122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: When Askeladd shows up with women and a desire to celebrate, Bjorn knows there will be trouble.No real spoilers, canon deviation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Karaii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karaii/gifts).



“I come bearing gifts!” Calls Askeladd from outside the tent, and Bjorn braces himself. He genuinely can’t image anything coming next that _isn’t_  going to make him cringe, because Askeladd’s idea of a ‘gift’ is always trouble.

He pulls away from the map in front of him, turning to face the entrance to the tent.

Surprisingly, Askeladd doesn’t come alone. It’s not with other members of their little band though--instead he comes with unfamiliar women. One is large and so busty that Bjorn can only imagine that one or two men have suffocated in her breasts, and the other is significantly more petite, looking a good deal more nervous than her friend.

Askeladd doesn’t look nervous at all, but he certainly does look like he’s up to something.

“You did well in the last battle--everyone’s celebrating. So _you_  should be celebrating. It’s good for morale,” Askeladd starts, and Bjorn knows better than to try and point out just how stupid Askeladd’s logic is. Askeladd himself obviously isn’t celebrating, after all. He’s busy bothering his second in command, interrupting his important work.

Bjorn stares at him for a moment before sparing a glance to the women Askeladd’s brought with him, his arms thrown around their shoulders.

“And?” He finally says. He certainly gets what Askeladd’s getting at--he isn’t stupid--but playing dumb and making Askeladd explain his idiotic logic is his favorite hobby.

“Well, I asked around, and none of the men could agree on whether or not you were interested in breasts or asses. So I went and found one of each. We have a betting pool going now on which you prefer.”

Bjorn considers digging the mushroom out of his pocket right then and there, if only because it means he won’t remember the next hour or two. He’s having a hard time imagining a more irritating situation, because the very last thing he wants is to go for a roll in the hay with one of the woman on Askeladd’s arms.

“I have no intention of taking a wife, Askeladd. Nor do I have any intention of settling down. You can take my sword from my hand when I’m good and dead,” he says instead, letting out a little grunt.

Askeladd has a _look_  that Bjorn hates. It means he’s decided something, and whatever he’s decided is absolutely going to be trouble.

Askeladd glances down at the women under his arms before lifting his arms clear from their shoulders, digging into the bag at his belt and pulling out a coin for each.

“Take this, go treat yourself, and if anyone asks, the four of us had a _very_  fun time,” Askeladd says.

Neither woman seems interested in protesting, snatching up Askeladd’s charitable gift, and they’re gone in an instant, leaving Bjorn staring at Askeladd’s back.

For once he has no idea what Askeladd’s up to, but he already hates it.

Askeladd looks smug as he turns back to Bjorn, planting his hands on his hips and staring down at him with an appraising look.

“So?”

Bjorn is at a loss for words, unable to figure out what the hell Askeladd wants.

“So?” He mimics with a frustrated grunt.

He’s really regretting not swallowing that mushroom.

Askeladd closes the distance between them so fast that Bjorn has to reign in his instincts. If it was anyone else--anyone other than Askeladd--they’d have a sword in their belly just for moving that fast in his direction.

He’s still trying to fight the urge to ram the hilt of his sword into Askeladd’s jaw when the man very nearly topples him over, grabbing Bjorn by the shoulders and shoving him literally out of the chair.

Bjorn has no idea what Askeladd’s doing, but he hates it anyway.

He lands on the straw mattress back-first with a _whump_ , and then Askeladd is suddenly on top of him, straddling his hips.

Bjorn’s brain screeches to a halt, and even the part of his brain that’s telling him to just _stab Askeladd already, he’ll get over it_  goes silent.

Askeladd looks equal parts good and predatory, like a wolf that’s considering what it wants to eat.

Bjorn suspects that what Askeladd wants to eat is him, but he can’t quite figure out what he’s supposed to say. His brain seems to have broken sometime during the fall.

“I always suspected you weren’t very interested in women,” Askeladd says, and Bjorn bucks, fighting off the urge to punch Askeladd in the face.

“Calm down. I don’t mean that way,” Askeladd says, sounding petulant, and Bjorn settles slightly, even if he still feels like Askeladd deserves a firm punch to the face for his implication.

Suddenly Askeladd is in _his_  face, and Bjorn forgets how to breathe. As much as he’d like to deny it, it’s impossible for him to completely deny that he finds Askeladd attractive, and having him hunched over him, only an inch or two away from his face is making it awfully hard to focus on anything at all.

“I would _never_ do that to you,” Askeladd says quietly, and his voice doesn’t sound quite like his own--it’s a bit off, a bit more breathy.

It does awful things to Bjorn, just hearing him say it.

Askeladd’s mouth is on his mouth and Bjorn forgets how to think properly. He hasn’t had a lot of experience--he’s always been more of a stabbing man than a kissing one--but as far as he’s concerned Askeladd is doing a damned good job of it.

Unlike himself.

“It’s like kissing a dead fish, Bjorn. You’ll have to work with me here,” Askeladd says as he pulls back, making a face before leaning back in.

Bjorn tries to do better the second time around, although he suspects he’s still doing awful. He doesn’t have any practical experience, and Askeladd is doing a much better job of it than he is.

Askeladd tastes like smoke and meat, and Bjorn presses up eagerly. He certainly doesn’t have the skill Askeladd does (Where did he even get so good, anyway?) but he does his best to make up for it with enthusiasm. He wants to savor every single second of it.

Abruptly he becomes aware of the fact that somehow--even though he doesn’t remember doing it--he’s not only flipped Askeladd over on the bed, but the other man is hammering away at his shoulder with the palm of his hand, trying to get his attention.

Bjorn breaks the kiss, and Askeladd coughs, looking irritated.

“I have to breathe, idiot,” he snaps, and Bjorn isn’t sure whether he should be apologetic or proud.

Askeladd’s hands are on his belt, working it open. It’s hot enough in armor as is, and even hotter with Askeladd still under him, and Bjorn fumbles with it himself, doing his best to help.

He doesn’t end up fully undressed. His thick armor is pulled up, bunched up about the waist, but his breaches are still on, much to his disappointment.

He’s not disappointed long. Askeladd reaches up, wrapping a hand around Bjorn’s cock, and he knows he’s putty in the man’s hands as he lets out a groan.

“I knew it,” Askeladd says, and he sounds so smug that Bjorn has to fight off the urge to punch him. He _is_  in punching range, but it’s probably better he doesn’t. “You’re desperate,” Askeladd says, his voice little more than a whisper.

He wants to say that he isn’t, but it’d be a lie. Instead he bites at his lower lip as Askeladd gives him a quick stroke, his legs trembling slightly as he fights to keep himself from collapsing onto Askeladd.

Askeladd leans up for another kiss as he continues to stroke, and his other arm comes up to wrap around Bjorn’s back. He can feel it even through his armor, even if it’s just the _presence_  of it, and it makes his breathing flutter as he tries to focus enough to return the kiss.

He’s not doing a good job of it. Askeladd is a thousand times more composed than he is, and he feels like he’s about to fall off a cliff of his own making.

“Go on,” Askeladd says, his voice breathy but still composed. Bjorn doesn’t think he’d be able to talk if he tried, and it’s all he can do not to bite back a moan as he finally cums into Askeladd’s hand, his entire body clenching as he rocks his hips into his commander’s hand, riding out his afterglow.

He sags down against him, burrowing his head against Askeladd’s shoulder for support as he waits for his entire body to stop trembling.

He’s come undone in Askeladd’s hands, and he can’t say he wouldn’t do it again if asked.

“Lucius,” Askeladd mutters, so quiet that Bjorn isn’t sure he’s supposed to have heard at all. It’s like a stone in his stomach, a kick to the face. Askeladd whispering some other man’s name.

He pushes himself upright, letting out a grunt. It was nothing. It was stupid. He’s angry and frustrated and doing his best not to show it, but he’s sure that Askeladd can read him like a book as he drags his armor back down, resettling it before cinching the belt once again.

He can feel Askeladd’s eyes on his back as he pulls the front flap of the tent open, but he doesn’t look back.

He regrets not eating that fucking mushroom in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

Bjorn spends the next few weeks in a sullen silence. He refuses to put up with Askeladd, leaving any tent he enters, but there’s only so much distance he can put between the two of them while they’re still in the same army.

Even worse, everyone in their band can tell there’s something going on, and Bjorn has to put up with every man in the goddamn army heckling him to make up with Askeladd already.

He doesn’t want to make up. Askeladd is an idiot, and he can’t imagine anything that he’ll say will ever change that.

By the third week Bjorn starts to suspect that the army is literally conspiring against him, and by the fourth week he’s sure of it. There’s simply no other explanation for the fact that people continue to spontaneously block his escape when Askeladd enders a room, nor for the fact that people have started to tell him that they want to show him something, only to lead him right back to Askeladd.

He can’t decide if Askeladd is putting them up to it, or if they’re simply doing it on their own terms.

Finally, things come to ahead when he finds himself literally trapped in the house Askeladd’s taken as his headquarters. There’s not just two but _three_  men stationed at the doorway, and he genuinely considers punching his way out before Askeladd abruptly places a hand on his shoulder.

“Bjorn,” Askeladd starts, and Bjorn spins, growling in his direction.

He’s sure Askeladd can see the whites of his teeth, and he sure hopes he gets the idea.

Askeladd throws his hands up in a nearly universal gesture of defeat. It’s _nearly_  universal, because Bjorn doesn’t think he’s going to just drop it and let it go at all.

“I can’t just have you avoiding me, you know. It’s bothering the men,” Askeladd says, all polite professionalism.

Bjorn knows him too well to fall for it.

Askeladd throws his arm around Bjorn’s shoulders and guides him back into the house properly, and Bjorn considers going out the house’s sole window.

It seems like a better plan than staying in the room with Askeladd.

The time for escaping out the window rapidly runs out, and Askeladd pushes him down onto the chair, making him take a seat.

Bjorn chews on his tongue, glowering at Askeladd as he retrieves something for them to drink.

Bjorn jumps a bit when Askeladd abruptly slams the mug down on the table in front of him, so hard that the table itself rocks. He isn’t used to that kind of explosive display of anger from Askeladd--it’s really been more of _his_  thing.

He twists his head slightly to look up at the other man, genuinely surprised to find real annoyance written on his features.

“You’re my second in command because you’re good. Good with the men, good with a sword, good in command. But right now you _aren’t_  good. Right now you’re ruining morale. Right now every man in the entire army is spending their time wondering why mommy and daddy are fighting, rather than figuring out how to stab someone more effectively.”

Askeladd’s voice is dripping with so much venom that even Bjorn feels the need to move away, but he holds his ground, glowering up at him.

“I’m not the one who started this, Askeladd.”

“You’re the one who’s _doing it_. I’m not the one fleeing the room the moment we’re within fifty feet of each other.”

Bjorn doesn’t remember choosing to get to his feet--he simply _does_ , and suddenly he’s looming over Askeladd.

To Askeladd’s credit, he doesn’t back down. He holds his ground exactly the way Bjorn expects, not even flinching as Bjorn looms over him, furious.

He hasn’t even touched any of the mushrooms in his belt pouch in weeks, but he feels like he emptied the whole damn bag into his mouth.

He hates everything. He hates Askeladd for saying that stupid name at all, for every trying to bring those women over. He hates the entire band for making him deal with Askeladd again, for harassing him when all he wants is space.

He hates himself for not leaving, for spending so many years following Askeladd around like an overgrown dog. For not simply packing his things and leaving the moment Askeladd said someone elses name. The writing's been on a wall for a long, long time, and he’s been too stupid to simply cut his losses. It’s not out of fear that he wouldn’t find a new place, because he’s certain that any band east of Vinland would love to have him, but simply the fact that none of those bands would have Askeladd. No matter where he goes, there’s only ever going to be one.

It’s not anything that Askeladd does, but Bjorn can feel the anger draining out of him. He’s carried it with him for weeks, ever since Askeladd whispered someone else's name, and all at once it’s gone. He feels himself sag, and Askeladd blinks up at him for a moment before understanding sets in.

Bjorn doesn’t protest when Askeladd takes his arm. He doesn’t fight it when Askeladd pulls him over to the bed, pushing him down so he sits. He doesn’t fight as the man starts to peel off his armor, folding it and setting it neatly on the floor. He simply sits there blankly as Askeladd reaches up, placing a hand on each side of his helmet as he pulls it off, setting it on the floor.

For the first time in weeks, Bjorn is armorless, dressed only in his shirt and breeches. He feels hollow, all the fight having simply drained out of him. He doesn’t have it in him to argue with Askeladd as the man pushes him down on the bed.

Askeladd tangles his fingers into his hair, holding his head tight, and Bjorn stares up at him lifelessly.

“You wouldn’t even fight, would you?” Askeladd says, his stare intense. “Even if I held you down and made you my woman right now.”

Bjorn doesn’t answer. Instead he simply closes his eyes. Askeladd can do as he pleases, just the same way he’s always done.

Askeladd lets go, and Bjorn doesn’t need his eyes to know what he’s doing. He can hear the sound of armor hitting the ground. He mentally counts off the pieces as Askeladd works his way through it, and when the bed sags under Askeladd’s weight he knows that the man is without his armor.

Askeladd curls against his side, and it seems strangely right to Bjorn. He rolls, wrapping an arm around Askeladd’s waist and pulling him in tighter.

If any of the men walked in--probably to check they hadn’t killed each other--Bjorn can only imagine that they’d be horrified by the thought of not just their captain, but the vice-captain as well being without their armor.

Bjorn can’t bring himself to care.

Askeladd seems so _small_  against him, and he’s forced to wonder how much of his bulk is simply his armor. He pulls him tighter against his chest until he suspects he’s in danger of breaking some of Askeladd’s ribs, but Askeladd doesn’t protest at all.

“You idiot,” Askeladd mumbles, and Bjorn lets out a snort.

“I’m the idiot? You’re the one who just crawled into bed beside a man who can crack your ribs by _accident_ ,” Bjorn replies, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“Not that,” Askeladd mutters with a snort. “The name.”

Any sort of good feeling Bjorn had going vanishes in an instant, and he scowls over Askeladd’s shoulder, even if the other man can’t actually _see_  it.

“And here I thought we were making up,” he mutters under his breath.

“We are,” Askeladd responds, prodding him in the ribs with a finger. “Lucius is me.”

There’s a moment of silence as Bjorn tries to turn the thought over in his head.

“I don’t follow,” he finally says. Better to admit to his confusion and let Askeladd rub it in than to sit there confused while Askeladd assumes he understands what he’s talking about.

“Lucius is my name. It’s not someone else’s name.”

Bjorn has only ever known him as Askeladd. Just Askeladd. If he had another name, as some do, he’d never said it. He has, abruptly, too many questions--is it Lucius Askeladd? Or is it just Lucius?--but in the end all that comes out is a single stupid statement.

“Lucius isn’t Danish,” he says, brows furrowing at the thought. He had always assumed that Askeladd was, but the blond of his hair really should have given it away.

He knows so, so little about Askeladd, and now it’s being shoved in his face.

Askeladd grunts.

“I’m aware,” he says, and Bjorn decides it’s better not to ask. Instead he pulls Askeladd a bit closer, shifting so he can rest his head on Askeladd’s shoulder.

Even so--even with Askeladd obviously avoiding the obvious question--it’s still a relief. There’s no Lucius out there standing in his way. There’s only Askeladd and his ever-darkening mysteries.

He can handle that.


End file.
